


In Which Cross is in Charge of One Virus and Eight Idiots With Guns

by SmollestHunter



Category: Prototype (Video Games)
Genre: Cross is the father of a few dumbass kids, Cross lives, Eventually they'll kiss, M/M, Other, Robert Cross loves one idiot man, Trans Character, Yes this is self indulgent don't @ me, i just want wiseman as a family, will update tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:21:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25385227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmollestHunter/pseuds/SmollestHunter
Summary: Mostly just drabbles I felt like writing for Wiseman team. Cross doesn't have enough grey hairs in my opinion so I'm gonna do it to him myself.
Relationships: Robert Cross/Alex Mercer
Comments: 17
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This really is self indulgent.

The whole fucked up disaster in Manhattan was technically over, thank god for that. No more uncontrollably present viral hell and Wiseman team was getting the fuck out on the double for good reason. Cross was still with them, which was good. It was great. Ortega had to say that without him they'd probably fall apart.

And on the other hand, she had never felt worse for Jackson, the naturally twitchy man almost to the point of crying in discomfort and absolute fucking  _ terror _ as he was sandwiched between Cross and Alex fucking Mercer. It was already bad enough that they were all tense as hell from having Cross explain they were smuggling him out under Blackwatch's nose, the whole team more or less on edge and trigger happy should he try anything. The only one who hadn't readily pulled a gun on Mercer had been Jackson, probaby because he'd been stuck processing just what the hell was going on when Mercer ended up sitting right next to him as the "safe" option. Right about now the kid was most likely actually crying under his helmet which is why he was refusing to take it off, objecting as much as possible while Cross kept casting him sideways glances after having made the suggestion he should. In Jackson's defense, Ortega wouldn't have wanted to see death incarnate clearly if it were sitting right next to her.  Especially since it was right next to him. _He_ , she reminded herself, _Mercer was a he_. By no means was Jackson unable to keep it together in the field; He could be a right terror but the kid really couldn't handle anything off it most nights. The constant twitch to his hands and the rapid jerking of his eyes made for a mess most times. There were things he couldn’t handle easily on a social standpoint; He had a stutter that got worse the longer anyone stared at him and was oftentimes bad with cues. He reminded Ortega of her younger brother which is probably why she tried to keep him close to her. 

Jennings thought it was hilarious until she'd broken his nose. Then followed him down. Then had to be pulled off him by Cross. It was worth slumming it through shit patrol later to see the pale man apologize through a fat lip and blackened eye. 

Still, back to the current issue. Mercer. He kept casting sideways glances at Jackson, causing him to tense every time and it was like it was like watching a feedback loop; Mercer looked at Jackson, Jackson would tense, Mercer would tense. Even Cross seemed aware that the nerves of one were bouncing off the other, ready to intercept. They were winding each other up and the last thing Ortega wanted was to be in a carrier with a skittish, twitchy, wound up virus and a skittish, twitchy, wound up teammate. Looking around, she could see Perez and Smith watching as subtly as they could as they attempted to play cards, Moore completely uninterested in all goings on as usual from her seat next to them while helping Perez cheat over Smith's shoulder. Lee and Flemming were too busy sleeping, leaning on each other in a way that was bound to have them yelling about the drool they were both getting on each other later. Great, it figured she'd have to-

"Jackson," jolting at the barking voice next to her and sudden movement, Ortega blinked in surprise as Jennings stood up, "Swap seats with me before you make Mercer lose his shit." 

There was a brief moment when the younger looked over at Cross, almost as if asking permission. The older man simply nodded at him and with the go ahead he was up like a shot, stumbling over and almost colliding with Jennings' significantly larger form. A large hand on his shoulder stopped him, Jennings leaning over and muttering something that had the kid nodding feverishly. A rough pat to the shoulder and he was free to take the man's spot next to her on the bench. Jennings had no problem sauntering over and throwing himself next to a confused Mercer, grinning at him and loosing an overconfident 'Sup' that got him a look of skepticism and a quiet, suspicious nod in greeting back. As soon as he was settled, Jackson seemed to relax a bit, leg twitching every now and then while playing with the fidget cube he usually kept in one of his side pockets.

With that, everything seemed to seep back to a more than willing silence. Ortega looked over to meet Cross's own look, raising his eyebrow as if to say 'what can you do'. What could she do indeed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quiet base is reason enough for suspicion, something Cross knows pretty well. Unsurprisingly, it has something to do with Mercer. Surprisingly, no one is dead yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao legit wasn't expecting people to like this but I'm glad you guys do! Also yes, we need more family-style wiseman team.

The base was quiet. Too quiet. So quiet, in fact, that Cross had ended up walking around just for the sound of his footsteps as he looked for the reason. Outside there was a storm raging, making the inside of the base darker than normal even with the LED lights. It's been raging since early this morning and didn't seem to be letting up any time soon. That really wasn't the problem causing the silence though since nothing stopped his team from being absolutely noisy. Ever since they'd come back from Manhattan the entire team had been oddly silent and awkward, skirting around on egg shells most likely as a result of Mercer having come with them.

Except Jennings. By god did that man know how to shoot his mouth off, not giving the virus a moments peace if he could afford too. Alex didn't seem too keen on the almost cutting remarks and vicious questioning the Wiseman member seemed intent on ribbing him with, simply enduring it until either Cross himself chased Jennings away or he got bored of talking to a brick wall. Even so, that didn't mean he wasn't quiet now which in itself couldn't possibly be good. He passed Ortega in the small commons, the dark skinned woman giving him a small salute off the top of her forehead before going back to cleaning her gun, the weapon in pieces in front of her. He gave her a nod in response, continuing past her as he did his own patrol of the area. Jackson wasn't glued to her side, meaning he was mostly with Moore. Odd, but not the reason it was quiet. Continuing down the hallway leading to the barracks he found himself stopping. One of the doors was ajar, light filtering through in thin lines against the tiled floor. 

There was whispering inside, sounding not unlike Lee's annoyed voice and from what he could guess from the quiet tone, Mercer. Now that… that was definitely surprising. Lee normally _hated_ people, became an anti-social terror that absolutely refused interaction outside of work reasons. The kid had avoided Jennings for three months when he showed up, leading to the loud mouthed man to snap and snarl until Moore had stepped in with Ortega. Cross found it hard to believe that both he and Mercer were hanging out, they'd only been back for almost a month. Moving closer quietly, he felt his brow furrow in mild confusion at the conversation.

"- just found it? Were there any others?" The sound of shifting and then something unintelligible was muttered.

"No, I didn't see any."

"Oh. I dunno if we can keep it. Seems like a bit of a burden, honestly."

"Why not? Cross seems to have no problem picking up strays." A sort of snort that could have been an attempt at laughing before awkward silence once more. Reaching the door, Cross found himself hesitating with his knuckles aimed at the door before tapping it gently. The sound of startled jumping was faintly amusing, footsteps approaching the door only for Lee's frowning face to peek through the gap.

"We're closed, come back later." The dry comment had him chuckling, cracking a slight grin even as the door was opened. Mercer was sitting on his heels, looking over his shoulder like a child caught misbehaving. He seemed intent on not moving, only looking down when a small noise escaped whatever his body was attempting to block. 

Raising a brow, he shot a look to Lee, "Is there something I should know?"

"Mercer found a fucking cat, sir. He didn't seem to know what to do with it and I just happened to be the first person he found." There was a muttered hiss of 'traitor', Alex simply moving so he was sitting with his left arm supported on his raised knee. A frown was stretched over his lips, blue eyes glowering at Lee and now Cross could see what he had been blocking. Sitting in the man's other arm was a mottled looking thing, brown and orange patches mingled with white fur. It had rounded blue eyes that were staring up at him, tiny mouth open in a near quiet mewl. Lee seemed more entertained than he should have been at the awkward shifting from the hooded virus so he was sitting cross legged, especially when Cross ended up making his way over to crouch and stare at the scraggly looking animal he'd drug back. 

The kitten was far too small, probably a runt. Thin hair was fluffed up like it had only recently been dried off. He expected this from Smith with how often the man tried convincing him that they should get a specialized k-9 unit, arguing that six dogs would be 'awesome' and 'not a waste of resources or time, what the hell sir'. Of course, that didn't mean he could really say anything for a cat drug in by a literal deadman walking. Smith was going to have a field day if he let it stay but Alex was watching him cautiously, guarded and the ripple of warning in his hands when the weathered man reached out a gloved hand had him pausing.

"Relax Mercer, I don't think he's going to hurt your cat." _Your cat_ . Interesting choice of words from Lee but it did have Alex moving so he could at least see the runt. Picking it up gently, Cross found himself looking it over carefully. It squirmed in his hold, letting out a loud _mew_ and biting onto one of his gloved fingers with its tiny needle teeth much to his surprise; something so small certainly had a lot of attitude. Pulling his finger away gently, Cross caught himself holding it up so that Lee could get a good look as well, the man's dark eyes rolling before reaching a finger out to tap the small black and pink nose of the creature. Alex's hands were twitching in his lap like he wanted to take it back, anxiousness crossing his eyes.

Letting out a slight laugh, Cross found himself rubbing at his brow as he handed the tiny tortoiseshell back to it's surprised owner, "Smith is going to absolutely lose it."

_____________________

True to his prediction, Smith _did_ lose it, just not in the way he had assumed. Alex had almost had a heart attack when Smith had almost rushed him after coming back from getting supplies with the rest of the team- Cross would chew them out later for not clearing it with him- green eyes alight with delight at the tiny thing. Hell, Cross hadn't even known a full grown man could make a noise like the one he did when he saw Mercer carrying it around. The only reason he didn't get close enough to grab the cat was because of the tendrils that were aimed at him in threat that sprouted over Alex's shoulders. There was maybe two seconds of fear and caution before Smith's ungodly need to hold the kitten won out. 

Raising an eyebrow as green eyes suddenly locked on him, he prepared himself for what came next, "Sir, tell him to let me see the cat."

"I can't force him to do that, Smith-" 

"Mercer, let me see the cat!" Of course, common sense went out the window and now Alex was holding the kitten away from him like the tanned man had rabies or some other disease. 

Blue eyes were narrowed dangerously, "No."

"Mercer please! I'm not gonna hurt it, I just wanna see it!" It never ceased to amaze Cross how fast Smith went from making demands to begging. If Alex had been a normal person, there wasn't a doubt in the specialist's mind that he'd have made a grab for the tiny thing. Too bad Alex would probably skewer him if he tried but honestly it would've been funny to see him try.

"No," dark brows pressed down, the virus moving closer towards him, "You might drop her-"

"I would sooner slit my throat than drop a kitten." The amount of seriousness wasn't lost to Alex but even so he seemed extremely unlikely still as the pallid man kept getting closer to him in an attempt to get around Smith.

It's then Jennings decided to pipe up, "He's not kidding, he really would."

"Then die."

"You-" and suddenly Cross was between Alex, thrown off balance when Smith actually made the attempt to grab at him, the man disappearing into the base again with Smith hot on his heels. 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Cross found himself yelling after them, "Mercer don't kill him!"

* * *

After that fiasco it seemed that finding Alex was going to be harder than he thought. Or, it should have been. Smith had come back completely sullen, having lost Mercer. Of course it didn't last long as the man immediately announced he was heading back out for pet supplies and dragging Ortega with him. It hadn't surprised him in the slightest honestly, already anticipating the headache that was bound to happen when Smith got back. What did surprise him however was that Mercer was laying on the floor of his room, watching the tiny kitten toddle around with a tiny puffed up tail. Looking over at him as the door closed, Cross could see the scowl etched onto his face.

"What?"

"So that's what you meant earlier," Ah. Shrugging his shoulders in what he hoped was a good enough answer, Cross found himself huffed at, "He's persistent."

Sitting on the bed, Cross just watched as the kitten wandered aimlessly before going back to butt her head against Mercer's cheek, "Smith wouldn't hurt an animal. People on the other hand…" there was a snort of amusement, one of Alex's hands pressing against his cheek so he could fix him with blue eyes but Cross cut him off before he could say anything, "He went out to buy cat food for her by the way. That and whatever else she needs."

"Oh." 

"I guess that slipped your mind huh?" Chuckling at the way the hooded man ignored his statement, Cross simply stood up to go back out the door.

"Where are you going?"

Opening the door, Cross looked over his shoulder tiredly to meet curious blue, "To get her something to hold her over. Who knows when the last time she ate something was."

* * *

It took three weeks for Mercer to let anyone else hold his cat. The tiny tortoiseshell had been affectionately named Dana, something that made Cross's insides twist when he saw the semi-sad look on Alex's face. It was brief, short lived and obviously giving away he was missing something. He didn't have long to dwell on it as Smith pretty much made himself level on the floor to pet her, happily calling her name to try and get her to go towards him. She had ended up regarding him with blue eyes as cold as Mercer's own, hiding behind the blacklight virus's ankles like they were a fortress as he watched from above. Feeding times was certainly a mess, Ortega giving Alex a look as he set a dish of wet food and milk where he was sitting and the kitten following. No one could really complain as the humanoid murder machine proceeded to run his fingers down her tiny back, making her purr loudly. Lee didn't do much more than raise an eyebrow before taking his food with him to hide in his room when everyone got significantly louder with each other after Jennings made the comment of Mercer being a, in more crude terms, cat whisperer. Of course that got Perez to slap the man on the back of his head and the slight grin on Alex's face at the action was hidden by him ducking his head to watch Dana.

It became apparent that Dana was a one-man cat, favoring Alex undeniably which made the man exceptionally smug. She accepted pets or treats from everyone else, had no problem playing with the toys given to her but if Alex was in the room everyone else was chopped liver. He was the only one the tiny creature purred for, all he had to do was look at her really. God only knew Smith was jealous but he had to admit it was fair; Mercer had found her, she was his cat. The amount of times that Cross had found the man in the commons late at night, hood down to reveal matted, curly hair as he laid on the couch pinned by a tiny ball of fuzz completely blew open the scary, terrifying monster idea. Maybe if he could get a few pictures and smattered them all over the internet they could topple Blackwatch like that. 

Well, he got the pictures but he wouldn't post them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's something going on in this base and Jennings is going to figure it out. 
> 
> Well, if he can keep his head on straight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this from my phone cause my computer is being stupid.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Another sunny day running drills. Perfect. Amazing. Absolutely astonishing. So why was he still outside getting the shit scorched out of his skin? Oh, right, because when Moore had caught him trapping the door to where Mercer hung out the most at the same time _Cross_ had stepped out, a bucket of blue dyed water fell all over him. First off, Jennings had a few questions as to why Mercer's favorite hideout was the captain's quarters, which was exactly what he'd thought about while running laps around the outside of the compound under Moore's supervision. Second, how the _hell_ was he supposed to know that Cross had been in there when it was almost four in the afternoon, good ol' o'sixteen-hundred?

Of course the fact that he was running laps like this was probably him getting off easy after asking that same question and getting the good captain's face to twist in a way Jennings had no interest in letting go. He was in no way an idiot but at the same time he wasn't the brightest. No, Perez had that spot. Still, it didn't mean Jennings wasn't the best at sniffing out mischief that wasn't his own. He would-

Oh thank any and all Gods Moore's blowing that fucking whistle. Stopping to wipe the sweat dripping from his brow and burning his eyes, Jennings found himself heaving in air. It made sense, Cross and Moore had been running him on both the self-made obstacle course and just around the building for almost two or three hours with like, two breaks under Moore's dictator-like supervising. Hands on his knees, Jennings frowned at just how _red_ he was, like a goddamn lobster. Hah, he could go for a swim right now and scare Jackson if he wanted-

No, bad, focus! Slapping himself on stinging cheeks, the pale man found himself frowning when Moore leaned down to be in view, "You good? Learn your lesson?"

" _Never_." The cheeky grin he accomplished while feeling like he's going to puke seemed to impress the tanned woman, getting a slap to his shoulders that had him yelping. 

"Might wanna get someone to slather you in aloe."

"I hate you so much." Yes, he really hated her at the moment but the blond woman had no problem helping to drag him back inside. He felt like he was dying, voiced as much to only get a snorted 'No you're not you baby'. Jackson had been walking towards them from down before freezing, baby blue eyes wide at the sight of the raven haired man's new colouration. At Moore's point down the hall and brief 'Aloe' he'd taken off with a nod, hurrying to what had been a rather busy medbay before. Jennings let her drag him further still to the commons so she could set him on the couch. He'd never been more thankful for wearing a shirt, even if it was stuck to his chest and somehow he was convinced that he had a lesser burn on his back still.

So maybe investigating what was happening would have to wait a day. Or two. Maybe five. Cross seemed to feel a little bit bad that he was so red at least but Lee thought it was hilarious to remind the specialist of his now light blue streak. Still, he didn't have to get up and do anything from where he was laying on his stomach in the commons thinking. Smith was having fun with it, pointing out his lobster back and claiming he had no other choice but to do a crab walk now. Mercer was also amused it seemed, sitting on the arm of the couch as Moore finally decided to take pity on him.

Or maybe it was vengeance for all the times he put a fake spider under her pillows because the sadist of a woman had certainly enjoyed his shriek of surprise when she all but glopped on near-frozen aloe to his practically glowing arms. Glowering at the wall across from him, Jennings made sure he had enough of a pout to display his discontent with that. Of course, this could also be karma for his constant aggravation of Mercer, the man certainly mildly entertained by his discomfort. At the feeling of Moore's rough fingers going for the hem of his shirt, Jennings finally rolled over.

"I appreciate the come on but I don't need that," he frowned, moving stiffly, "if I somehow managed to burn there it's not as bad."

"Well can I _check-_ "

"No, you cannot." Of course that got him an exasperated look from Moore as she stood up from straddling his hips so he could sit up as well. Every muscle in his body was protesting but he still took the chilly bottle and rubbed it on his own neck and face with a hiss of pain.

He'd give it a week, _then_ he'd pry into what was going on.

* * *

By the time a week had finally gone up and his skin didn't turn purple from how often Lee and Perez were hitting him on his crimson shoulders, Jennings had just about forgotten about the creeping feeling in the back of his mind. At least, he forgot until Dana almost triggered one of his pranks. Not wanting to end up as lunch he'd dove for the kitten, picking her up and sliding on the oiled floor into the loose feathers he'd bought in bulk from the craft store last time he was out. Of course, that meant he was a slimy, disgusting mess getting stabbed by the quills but at least the squirming ball of fluff was okay. 

And then Mercer walked around the corner with Cross, obviously looking for the tortoiseshell who was trying to catch the feathers fluttering around him. That got him on clean-up duty. But it sparked the thought in the back of his mind, kick starting the generator there. By the time he'd gotten back to the commons without feathers covering his ass and greasy every possible option was running through his head. Logically, it made sense that the good captain was probably the closest thing the man-shaped murder machine had to a friend which while _aw, cute_ , it was also _oh_ . Cross hadn't quite divulged why exactly Mercer had even came with them to begin with. Friendship seemed like the most bullshit answer, who the fuck even followed someone somewhere just from _friendship_ -

Slapping his hands to his head, Jennings frowned. If only he could-

"What's wrong with you now, Jennings?" Looking up, he frowned deeper at the masked face of Flemming. They were a goddamn ghost, constantly scaring the shit out of everyone-

That was it. That was his trump card!

"Flemming," and wow, that scared them as he shot up and grabbed their arms, "I need your help!"

"Uh-"

"You can get anywhere in the base without getting caught right?"

Mismatched eyes were watching him, brown and green studying his face cooly, "...yeah..?"

"I need you to figure something out for me," oh he could feel the judgemental stare from the other as he leaned in and the shorter operative leaned back, "I need you to figure out what's going on between Cross and Mercer."

There was a deep silence, something calculating and cold in Flemming's gaze that reminded him of just _why_ he didn't like Flemming. Only Cross and Moore knew what they looked like under that balaclava and the heavy layers of gear. They had been the new guy before Mercer got that title, still stuck in a rigid Blackwatch mentality that gave way to the ghostly presence they maintained. Moore said they would need time to get comfortable and sync up with them; Jennings just thought they were like an empty shell. Still, if anyone could figure out just what he couldn't it had to be the covered… man? Woman? Unaffiliated other? They never corrected anyone but the raven haired man couldn't be sure what was preferred. 

Finally, the level toned voice started up again slowly, disbelieving, "You want me to spy on our _commanding officer_."

"And Mercer."

"... What do I get out of it if I do?" Huh, maybe they did have some personality after all to say something like that

Letting go of them, Jennings raised a thick eyebrow, "What do you want?"

"A favor. Something discreet I can cash in at any time." And now came the awkward shifting, almost unnoticeable. 

"That's it?"

"Yes."

"Fuck, brother, you've got a deal!" Sticking out a hand excitedly to shake on it had Flemming freezing up momentarily, and okay maybe he'd gone too far with that. Maybe it was because he agreed too fast. As he was going to pull away, a heavily gloved hand found his own, giving one good, hard grip and pulling him closer.

"Jennings, if you go back on this at all, you won't have a hand to rig your shitty fucking traps ever again." He took it back. Flemming had a lot more personality than he thought.

* * *

Almost two weeks later and various skulking reports put him no closer to figuring it out. Flemming had actually typed up a weekly report for him, printed it, stapled it and wrapped it in an envelope that had been hidden under his pillow. Honestly, the now-tanned man had to give them props; Freaky as they were, Flemming certainly was thorough. The short operative had even managed to sneak photos and stills from the base's cameras of Cross and Mercer. The reports were strangely worded, mostly broken into chunks based on daily interactions that the two had together throughout the week. Still, there was something off about it, almost like there were pieces still missing to fill in tiny little gaps that seemed almost on purpose. The second and final report came in on the second friday, handed to him in person by Flemming who was shifting more than usual where they stood. Mercer had finally caught onto the tail, effectively blowing the fact that Flemming was indeed behind them and having scared both Cross and the operative who had quickly lied about wanting to talk to Cross in private.

"Inconclusive? Seriously?"

"I did what you wanted. Now you have to hold up your end." The finger jabbed at him was enough to remind him of the threat he was under by the other. Holding his hands up in defense, Jennings noticed the almost panicked look in those mismatched eyes and the way their voice broke. 

"Okay, okay fuck. Just relax," that got the finger put down at least but the operative stood like a statue, tense and unyielding, "What… what do you want me too-"

"I need you to go into town by six p.m. on Monday, stop off at this address," a slip of folded paper was thrust to him, Flemming's hand shaking, "Say you're making a pick up for K. Flemming and then come right back here. Don't tell anyone, don't ask questions, lie if you have to, but get it back here as soon as possible, got it?"

Taking the paper awkwardly, he frowned at the address, "Uhh…"

" _Got it_?"

"Yes, yes fuck I got it-" with that, Flemming was leaving the room, no _thank you_ or anything. He had to admit, the kid really did have more personality than expected. Sighing to himself, Jennings looked down at the envelope on his bed with a face. The only thing that bothered him was the blatant censorship of most of the document, probably another Blackwatch specialty. Picking it up again to read through it carefully, he frowned at the words on the last page.

_Just friends_ and _Inconclusive_ were contradictory. Dropping it again with a sigh, Jennings frowned. Maybe he'd go get whatever was so important to them.

Or maybe he'd go put a plastic spider in Moore's room again, that sounded like a better idea.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's no surprise people don't like him. It's just that Alex isn't used to being in such close proximity without being able to eat them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I had to kick a writer's block which really didn't like me.

On a good day, the Wiseman team was dysfunctional. On a bad day, they were an absolute mess. That was the first thing Cross had said when he'd gotten the blacklight virus alone at the base. The older man seemed to have quite the skill in hiding that he was just a tad nervous from his men, having been relieved when the nervous man next to them in the carrier had swapped out with the cocky one. 

Only now did it make sense when Alex saw it in practice. Wiseman was stable in the field but off of it? It was only so amusing to watch as they tripped and stumbled and snapped at each other. He'd been learning who they were slowly. Alex learned Jennings pretty quickly, the pale man enjoying getting close enough to make him bristle. Smith didn't seem to mind him when he had Dana with him, Perez could care less as she only felt the need to talk to him if it was to notify him about Cross needing him or Jennings rigging another trap, the time he interacted with Lee was enough, Ortega and Moore were okay with him and had no problem doing some small talk, and Jackson all but ran away from him. The only one with an openly voiced opinion though was the base's ghost.

After Alex had caught their tail, Flemming seemed to have no issue with making themself known to him. There was a constant scent of just pure  _ hatred _ wafting off the masked operative, the virus often times accidentally locking eyes with mismatched brown and green that made his skin crawl. Cross had seemed stumped when he asked, offering up that Flemming was still technically fresh from Blackwatch training but when Alex pried just a little more the man seemed at a loss. Before he'd left to find Dana in means to calm the crawling discomfort under his skin Cross had caught his arm. The serious look in his eyes also belied hidden concern, the specialist making him swear to tell him if Flemming seemed to be getting more aggressive with him.

That had done nothing to calm the itch under his skin. By the time he'd found Dana, she was obviously being spoilt by Smith while Jackson was just finishing tying a bow around her neck gently. They handed her over with few complaints -all Smith, the ginger was pouting about it- and left soon after giving her a few more pets while she purred in Alex's arms.

___________________

The longer he was here, the more obvious things started to get more and more tense the longer he was here. Asking around to who would talk to him gave no answers, everyone else just seeming confused and miserable as well. Even Jennings had said he couldn't bring himself to rig any of his traps, complaining loudly that he was stagnating creatively under the black cloud that settled over the base when they were eating dinner. 

It takes maybe two more weeks for the taught atmosphere to finally snap. Everyone's seemed to figure out it has something to do with  _ him _ , they just don't know  _ who _ has the issue. Even Dana is on edge, ears back and tail flicking in agitation more often these days. No one seems happy with the situation but it's only Alex who notices the distinct lack of Flemming and Cross at dinner. Frowning as he walked down the hall to Cross's room, Alex slowed down at the sound of yelling, then a loud crash and even  _ louder _ yelling. The door to Cross's room slammed open and one heavily clothed form took off running out and legging it down the hallway. 

Cross's disheveled form appeared, the man seething with a split lip, "Flemming! Get back here!" 

It was definitely more of a roar than a simple yell, edged with enough spitting rage and venom that even Alex felt himself go tense but even so the now-named Flemming just disappeared around the corner. The sound of it had a couple doors opening, Lee and Perez looking out from one while Jennings actually walked out and past the frozen virus with only a split-second glance. 

"Captain," and Alex winced a bit when the man's head snapped to stare at Jennings with rage-darkened eyes, "Your lip's bleeding."

There was a second where Cross simply stared at him before reaching up to touch it, cursing at the touch of crimson on his fingers. It didn't do anything to stop the snarl spreading across his lips and the furrow in his brows from deepening even more.

"I can see that, Jennings." It's all but spat at him, the raven haired man raising an eyebrow as he moved closer, looking at Alex and back to Cross.

"Did Mercer do that-" and if the hooded man is growling at the thumb jerked in his direction then Jennings obviously doesn't care.

"No-"

"It was Flemming," The way he spits the name shows a side that obviously none of the watching Wiseman operatives have seen, "Bastard wanted to talk and it escalated. Hit me and ran off."

A pin could have dropped in the following silence, Alex watching as blood dribbled from his chin sluggishly before Cross wiped it away. The sight made something twist inside, the superfluous organ in his chest more or less thudding angrily. Jennings made sure to knock arms with him, grabbing his attention as he did the same to get Cross's attention as he headed down the hall.

"Where are you going Jennings?" And Alex winces as he drags the attention of the unrelenting stares to himself at the question.

"I'm gonna go find Flemming," the tone is a cover up; Cheeky on the outside but cold inside, "duh."

________________

The rest of the week has Alex looking at Cross's face, the man still fuming slightly when he catches the curly-haired man checking out his swollen lip. Jennings had shown up almost three hours later, explaining that while he'd found Flemming good luck getting to him because they were a moving target. 

And then Jennings had stated that, in less words than Flemming had used apparently, the operative did  _ not _ want Alex here. Had called him a  _ bad idea _ ,  _ thoughtless decision _ , and in Alex's personal favorite description,  _ disgusting _ . Of course Cross had been rather agitated at that, more so when Jennings relayed that yeah, Flemming was the one helping inspire the absolutely shite mess that was boiling under the skins of the Wiseman team. It became apparent after that just how disliked Flemming was in the group; Lee complained about their attitude, Smith relayed how he'd seen Dana bristle at them, Jackson couldn be near Alex longer than them and Ortega stated that they tended to simply 'creep her out'. It was a divide though, with Moore and Perez arguing that obviously no one ever thought to try and help them settle in anyways, trying to push in a little bit of sympathy for the difficult operative. Eventually Cross simply dismissed everyone, stating he'd deal with it.

_________________

It's only a month later that Alex starts stealing glimpses of the operative again. Apparently Cross had kicked them off base for a little to give everyone space to breathe and avoid another fight altogether. Jennings just said it was almost like a probationary measure before jumping as he realized who was behind him and triggering a paint trap with a half-annoyed, half-startled yell. Of course that got him whined at for the rest of the day after Jennings got electric yellow paint out of his hair and laughed at for the huge lump from the can. Moore had sighed out how one of these days his own pranks were going to kill him and gotten a cheeky shrug for her concern. 

On his own concern, now he was stuck on the lookout for an operative that hated him (again, just like Manhattan) while on base. Cross had only seen them a handful of times as well, getting what could only be described as a seething glare whenever he saw Flemming as well.

"That kid can't let anything go!" It was exasperated, the sound of the specialist's (sopping wet) shirt landing in the hamper had Alex looking up at him from the book he was reading (something terrible and trashy Perez owned), eyebrow raised as the man dug for something clean.

"What happened to you?"

"Nice, Mercer," its snorted, only half amused, "water trap."

"I thought Jennings was banned from pranking this area." That gets a barely noticeable twitch to start up under one of Cross's eyes and Alex is almost certainly convinced he went back to the time he had a sky blue streak for a while there.

It's gone as soon as it came, the dark haired man simply huffing in tired annoyance, "It wasn't Jennings. The trap structure was rigged wrong and I should have seen it; It was Flemming."

Shutting the book he was reading, Alex sat up and felt his brow furrow as he frowned, "It probably wasn't for you then."

"I guess not!" And Cross is sitting on his bed tenderly, wincing slightly with a storm brewing on his features.

"Are you hurt?"

"I just slipped on the damn puddle and slammed my hip- don't  _ laugh _ Mercer,  _ fuck _ you!" If anything, Cross's indignant frown is worth the sock ball pitched at him from across the room.

________________

It's not that concerning to be unable to find Dana but when even  _ Smith _ hasn't seen her for almost a day that was worrying. There were alarm bells in his head at the prospect that she'd gotten hurt or lost in the base, resulting in everyone else being drug into a search for the cat. After almost two hours of not finding anything it was getting to be extremely more apparent she wasn't anywhere to be found.

And then Jennings opened his huge mouth with a "You don't think Flemming would kill Mercer's cat do you?" and it devolved from there because no, Alex wouldn't put it past them. That had put even Lee on high alert, the man loudly stating if that was true then maybe they should just let Alex eat them-

And in walked Flemming. With a cat carrier. The resounding silence was filled only with a seething annoyance that could be cut with a knife as Flemming glowered at them all. Setting down the carrier, Alex watched as the man opened the door for Dana to come rocketing out and situate herself on the back of the couch in bristled glory. The unusual sound of heavy boots stomping towards him drew his attention as Flemming crossed the short distance to him and Alex actually winced as he was slapped in the chest before Flemming was turning on their heel and leaving in a fuming mess. Blinking down as his hands grabbed- whatever it was, the curly haired virus pulled it away from his chest in confusion.

"They took your fucking cat to the vet?"

"Oh shit that was today!" Smith flushed red at the sudden amount if attention he was getting, the man reaching back to awkwardly scratch at the back of his head, "I, uh, set up an appointment for Dana to get her shots and a check up at the vet clinic in the town close to here. I guess I forgot about it."

"Then how'd Flemming know?"

"I don't know! They're a fucking ghost-"

Tuning out the resulting argument, Alex simply flipped through the forms, eyes catching on something scrawled on the bottom of the last of the stapled pages.

' _Fuck you, Mercer. Get out of my base._ '

Stifling a laugh at the exceptionally angry scribble of words, he folded it in half and tucked it into his jacket as he turned to go get Dana.


End file.
